


By The Grave

by EmrysTheMerlin



Series: An Innocent Warrior, A Wise King [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alive Will, Empty graves, Gen, Memories, Sadness, looking back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrysTheMerlin/pseuds/EmrysTheMerlin
Summary: It took them three years to bury their friend. Family and friends alike stand one by one next in front of the grave. Secrets are revealed, anger is vented, and all that answers back is empty silence.





	1. Gaius, Lancelot, Gwen

**Author's Note:**

> These are short chapters. I own nothing. This is a transfer from Fanfiction. Please let me know what you think.

It took them three years. Three years without word or sign, rumor or whisper of their friend. It took them three years to build him a grave. After the funeral itself, during which the presumed deceased was honored in absentia replaced by a dark blue neckerchief, none of them visited the grave together.

 

He stood there looking at the place that marked the end of hope. Well that was how he saw it; the others had given up hope. He shook his head at the stones and placed the carved dragon figure he had discovered under his wards bed on one of the stones. 

“Why did you have to leave? Why did you have to be so stubborn my boy?” He sniffled and whipped at the tears on his face. 

“Well I’m sure when you get back you’ll find this highly amusing, assuming you ever find out about it.” Giaus refused to give up hope. He would be back someday.

 

 

Lancelot paced up and down in front of the grave. After a while he began to speak to it.

“You’re not dead. You’re smarter than that.” He kept pacing, not looking at the stones. 

“You’re stronger than that. But you were scared, you lied. Why?” He looked at the stones, on which rested a carved dragon, as if they would offer some kind of answer. Silence followed for a few moments. Then comprehension flashed over Lancelot’s face and horror was quick to follow. 

“Someone found out. That’s it. You fool! You thought you were putting everyone else in danger so you left and you lied. Arthur’s right you’re an idiot. You didn’t have to leave, I could have helped.” Lancelot sighed and took off his red Camelot cloak expertly folding it so that the Pendragon crest faced up. He carefully placed it next to the dragon. 

“I still say you deserved to be knighted more than any of us.” With that he walked away, sniffling slightly. 

 

 

Gwen laid a bouquet of violets on top of the cloak and sat down in front of the grave. 

“I… I have something to say. I know. Your secret. I figured it out a while ago, took me longer than I would like to admit but I worked it out. I think I really knew after the Questing Beast, there was no way Arthur could have made that recovery on his own. You saved us so many times. Without you Arthur and I would never have been friends, let alone married. I never thought I could be this happy. But…” Her voice broke and she paused, trying to collect herself. 

“Without you, nothing’s the way it should be. It’s happy and looks perfect, but it’s wrong. You saved us, why couldn’t you let us save you?” She dissolved into tears and ran from the grave.


	2. Gwaine, Hunith

He set a tankard down on the grave, next to the cloak covered in flowers, and took a sip from his own. 

“Cheers mate.” He toasted and took another swig of the mead. He leaned on a tree next to the grave and looked around.

“Cheerful place this.” He observed looking around. A creek bubbled through the clearing and the grave was surrounded by flowering trees, he wasn’t sure what kind they were. 

“Bit too cheerful really. I thought graves were supposed to be dismal, not so damn happy. Then again I guess it fits. You never were what you seemed, or what you were supposed to be. Then again neither of us were, were we?” Gwaine pulled a small brass seal out of his pocket. 

“I never got the chance to show this to you. My family seal. Never got to show anyone. Never told anyone but you, so I didn’t see the point in showing them. But you never told anyone, did you? No, see you wouldn’t. ‘Cause you didn’t care.” He didn’t cry, not Gwaine, not anymore. But his voice was rough and cracked.

“My first friend, real friend that is, not some sod I met at the tavern who just wanted me to buy him a drink. That’s what you were, and you helped me make something of myself. I just wanted to say thanks mate.” He placed the seal carefully behind the dragon figurine and began to walk away. Then he spun on his heel and spoke once more to the grave.

“Oh, and next time I see you you’re getting a swift kick to the shin for not saying goodbye.”

 

 

She simply stood at the grave. Her son, her strong boy, her special child who was so much more than that.

Silence continued for a while as tears streamed down her face. She had seen the carved dragon and recognized Balinor’s work. She stroked its wing with one finger.

“So you did get to meet him. That’s good. I so hoped you would someday. He would have been a good father, and I know we share one thing even now. We are so very proud of you. Come home soon my son.” She cried for nearly an hour before she worked up the nerve to leave.


	3. Will, Arthur

He lowered the hood he had worn to get here and looked over the grave and the items that lay atop it.

“You know, even dead, you’re more trouble than you should be.” He refused to get within a foot of the grave and after the first glance over it his eyes skirted around it. 

“Told you this lot would be the end of you. Remember? Might be the end of me if they find me here.” He glanced around still avoiding the grave.

“You know this is the first promise to me you’ve broken. You always said that when we died we would be there for each other when it happened. If we were ever in trouble we’d come to each other and ask for help. Guess you forgot. You’re an ass, you daft old warlock. And you better not be dead. ‘Cause I’ll kill you myself if you are.” He heard someone approaching and spoke quickly, laying a feather from the bird his friend, his brother, was named for on the grave. 

“Pointless really but I’ll be back.” He slipped back into the woods.

 

 

He glanced around, hand on his swords hilt.

“I could have sworn I heard someone.” He muttered then shook his head. He looked at the grave and almost laughed. But just almost.

“I see Gwen and the knights have been by.” There was an awkward silence and Arthur adjusted his tunic.

“George is insufferable you know, his jokes have gotten worse. There’s a new bloke now, Peter I think is his name. He does the stables and laundry. He also helps out with training. He’s worse than you; I didn’t think it could be done! He just stands there, cowering! He even drops the damn shield!” Arthur stopped, realizing his voice was getting louder.

“Everything’s done on time. Done without complaint. Done perfectly. There’s no back talk, no annoying sayings in the morning. No more disobedience, no more disrespectful name calling. And do you know what?” He was practically yelling at the grave as he asked the question. But his voice broke on the last word. 

“I hate every second of it. They treat me like royalty, and I can’t stand a second of it! It’s like I’m not a person anymore.” He scrubbed his hands across his face and looked away from the grave.

“People say that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Well they’re wrong. I didn’t know what I had until someone took you away from me.” He didn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry.

“I didn’t know what I would be losing. Not just a servant, and a bloody awful one at that, but an advisor. The only person who could tell me off and get away with it. A… A friend.” He would not cry.

“Why didn’t you trust me? Why?! Did you really hate me that much? You left because of me, I know you did.” Arthur raised a hand and gestured around the clearing letting out a nearly hysterical laugh. 

“And this place! This whole grave thing started as a stupid sick joke! It’s all Gwaine’s fault, he had to go and say something when I was angry. You know what he said? Hmm?” He got no answer, not that her expected one really but he kept on all the same.

“He said maybe it’s a good thing you’re gone, otherwise I’d kill you myself as soon as you came back.” Arthur took a breath and looked at the creek.

“Then Percival had to open his mouth. He said it would be better that way. Better to see you again, even if we had to bury you after. Better that then never seeing you again.” Arthur sighed. 

“Maybe he’s right, at least then I’d know you weren’t alone in the end. I’m still not convinced you’re gone you know. You never could do anything right, dying shouldn’t be the exception.” He finally plucked up the courage to look at the grave again. 

“You’re a clot pole you know. You really are, you left! I…” He sank to his haunches before the grave.

“I just want you to come home. Please just come home. Please Merlin.” He broke down crying then, unable to stop even if he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That ends this one!


End file.
